The Whiskey Rebel

by David Liss

  “But would you really wish to see the nation brought to its knees, reeling in chaos?” asked Skye.

  “We all of us here believe in liberty and freedom and republican government,” I said, “but does that mean we must obey any government that claims to uphold those principles while, at the same time, openly and brazenly pursuing a course of subjugation? Less than ten years after the Revolution, and look at what we have wrought: greed, oligarchy, corruption, and slavery. It is better this nation be crushed, better we destroy this false beginning and begin anew in the hopes of doing things properly. Is that not preferable to permitting something rotten and insidious to dress itself up as glorious and just? If we do nothing, if we take our little share of wealth and turn our backs now, in future generations, when rank corruption masquerades as liberty, it will be upon our shoulders. True patriots will then ask why we who were there to witness our nation at the crossroads did nothing.”

  I had not planned to make so impassioned a speech, but now that the words had come out, I knew they were true. And from the looks upon their faces, I knew my friends believed them too.

  Dalton said nothing for a long time. Then, at last, he looked at Skye. “You think it possible we can do this thing she speaks of? Not that it ought to be done, but that it can be-that the four of us and a few more, so small a number, can do it?”

  “I do,” said Skye. “It won’t be easy, but why can we not do whatever we wish? Why can we not do whatever our minds conceive of?”

  These men had changed the world once before. They had fought in the most important revolution in human history and redrawn the boundaries of government power for all time. Who was to say they could not do as much again?

  Jericho Richmond set down his glass. “The two of you are under her spell. If this woman tells you to ride your horse off a cliff, will you do it?”

  “Mr. Richmond, what have I done that you would speak to me so?” I demanded. “I thought we were friends.”

  “We are,” he answered, “but I will not throw myself into the maw of your madness for no better reason than revenge.”

  I poured myself a fresh mug of whiskey. “No, I suppose not. But will you throw yourself into the maw of my madness if doing so would make you very wealthy?”

  I now had his attention. “Perhaps. If you convince me your plan might work.”

  I began to speak, explaining to them the plan I had constructed, its dangers and nuances, and how it should leave us avenged, the country righted, and our efforts rewarded with great wealth. I spoke at length, at first fearing I’d said too much and not parsed out the information slowly or gently enough, but questions soon began to arise, from both Dalton and Skye and then even from Jericho. I made certain the whiskey continued to pour. By the end of the evening, my scheme had turned from an idea to a rebellion.

  Ethan Saunders

  I was now torn between my two goals, for if I was to discover the truth behind these threats against Mrs. Pearson, I would have to go to New York and learn more about Duer’s scheme and how the upcoming launch of the Million Bank related to these threats against Hamilton ’s bank. Yet, how could I leave Philadelphia when Cynthia was under siege from her own husband?

  It was Lavien who helped to resolve this dilemma. A few days after the dinner at the Pearson house, he summoned me a little after noon to Clark’s Inn on Chestnut, across from the Statehouse, at the sign of the Coach and Horses. I was pleased with the invitation, for I was hungry, and Clark ’s is always an inviting place to dine for the entertaining way in which they prepare their meat. It turns on a great spit over a hot fire, and the turning is done by a pair of yellow dogs who run steadily in a large wheel, like overgrown squirrels.

  Leonidas and I arrived before Lavien, for I saw no sign of him, but we were in time for the dogs’ final exertions, so soon there was hot beef, boiled potatoes, and freshly baked rolls to enjoy. Clark ’s had no whiskey, so I settled for rum, and Leonidas led us to a table that offered us a good view of the door. Lavien arrived in a quarter hour, accompanied by an aging man, perhaps near sixty, wearing a once-fine brown suit that was now, in places, faded and spotted. He had a very erect posture and strode in slow, deliberate steps, affecting, I thought, a kind of gentility that perhaps did not come naturally.

  Leonidas and I were near done with our fine repast, well roasted by the Labradors, and we rose to meet the men.

  “Ah,” said Lavien. “I’m sorry to keep you, but I’m glad you are here. I want you to meet this man. Albert Turner, may I present Captain Saunders and his associate, Leonidas.”

  Turner bowed very deeply. “Yes, very good,” he said. “Captain Saunders, yes. Of course, sir. Your name is well known to me.”

  Rarely could that be desirable. I bowed, and we all sat. Lavien called for drinks.

  “I am always pleased to make a new acquaintance,” I said, though it was a wretched lie. I could not have desired less to meet this man. “Yet I suspect there is some particular reason I have been summoned. Something out of the way of ordinary sociability.”

  “Mr. Turner lived in Philadelphia during much of the war,” said Lavien. “Indeed, he was not always the greatest friend of the United States, for he served the British cause.”

  Turner smiled sheepishly once more, this time opening his mouth, and showing me that the better portion of his teeth were but a memory. “Many people did, you know, and had things gone otherwise we’d have been heroes. Merely the chance of history. You cannot blame a man for taking up the cause of his native land.”

  “All in the past,” said Lavien, careful to affect an air of easy civility. “The war is over, and we have no interest in punishing one set of men because their consciences dictated a course of action different from another set.”

  “Exactly so,” said Turner. The tankards of beer had now arrived, and he drank quickly and deeply, as if afraid he might soon be asked to leave and wished to take as much drink as he could first. The end result was a rather large spill on his coat, which he brushed at with evident embarrassment. “These questions of loyalty and allegiance during the war are but matters of curiosity now, though they were of the greatest import then.”

  I believed I now understood what this was about. It concerned Fleet. I stood up. “I told you, Lavien, that I didn’t want you looking into this.”

  “Yes,” said Lavien, “but I didn’t listen. I see in you an asset to this government and to Hamilton, but as long as your name lies in shadow, the government cannot make use of you. It is my duty to ignore your wishes.”

  I would not dignify his flattery with a response. “Come, Leonidas.”

  Lavien stood. “Sit down, Captain Saunders. You do wish to hear this.”

  I did not like to be ordered around, but I knew from how he spoke that regret would eat away at me if I did not listen. I had no choice, really. I sat down.

  “Mr. Turner,” said Lavien, “is the British agent to whom you and Fleet were alleged to sell messages. It was his correspondence that was found in your things. He, of course, fled once he received word that you had been apprehended and only returned to Philadelphia after the war.”

  I stared at him and then turned to Lavien. “He can say nothing I want to hear.”

  “You believe that,” said Lavien, “because you believe he will condemn Fleet, but it is not the case.”

  I felt myself biting the inside of my cheek, but I said nothing.

  “Very right,” said Turner. “I never had anything to do with you or Major Fleet. Yours were the names I was directed to use by my contact. I did not know why, nor did I care. It sounds rather unkind, I know, but it was war, and we did not trouble ourselves with such things. You were no better than I, I am sure, for it is easy to overlook the harm to innocents when you cannot see or know them.”

  It was true enough. “Go on.”

  “I was authorized to buy secrets from various contacts, and one of them insisted that I contact him using your names instead of my own. It was these letters that Mr. L
avien informs me were found in your things, though I cannot say how they made their way there. When I heard of your capture, I did not think of it, for I presumed that my contact was but the middleman, though I was surprised to learn that you and Major Fleet were real men. I always presumed they were noms de guerre.”

  “You are saying that our betrayal was planned?” I asked. “For how long did you use these names before we were accused?”

  “Oh, six months at least. Maybe nine. Then we were betrayed, each in our own way.”

  Lavien leaned forward and then back. This was as much enthusiasm as he ever demonstrated. “For the betrayal to have happened in such a manner, it would have had to have been done by your contact. Who else could have known enough to ruin all involved?”

  I did not like it that Lavien had proceeded without my permission, but I could not deny my excitement. This conspiracy had been the great mystery of my life, its principal turning point. It seemed that now I was to learn the truth behind it, and the truth would not condemn Fleet. “Did you know his name?” I asked, keeping my voice steady.

  “I was not meant to,” answered Turner, “but I was cleverer than he thought. He believed me nothing but a blunderer, and I suppose I was, but even so, I was no fool. And he was always too impressed with himself. Still is, I suppose, but vicious too. I have no doubt he would kill me if he were to see me, for though it would be but my word against his, and the war is long over, he would not like it if I were to tell the world what I know.”

  I tried to speak, but my breath caught. I tried again. “What is his name?” I did not need to ask. I already knew.

  “His name is Pearson, Jacob Pearson.”

  I was on my feet and halfway out the door when I felt Lavien’s hand around my arm, pulling me back to my table. He must have weighed a third less than I did, yet his strength was great, his weight perfectly proportioned. I do not know that I could have broken free of his grip.

  “Wait.” His voice was quiet but undeniably commanding.

  “Do not tell me to wait,” I answered, though I had stopped without meaning to. “You cannot preach caution to me. He destroyed my life, and now he destroys hers. He destroys his own children, for the love of God! How can you bid me wait?”

  “You misunderstand me,” said Lavien. “I do not ask you for restraint. Do you forget to whom you speak? I only ask you to wait.”

  “For what am I to wait?” I asked, my teeth nearly clenched.

  “You are not thinking clearly,” he said. “You have allowed your reason to be clouded by rage. You do not see what I see.”

  “And what do you see?” I demanded.

  He looked over at Turner. “He’s not telling us everything.”

  I glanced over at the old man, nervously twisting a ring around his finger. I had not visited any anger upon him. No, not so much as a single harsh word had I offered him, for I heard his original plea, and though I could not love a traitor, I could not condemn a man who loves his own country, even when it is in the wrong. I had said as much, and he had believed me, he had seen it in me. And yet he nervously twisted that ring about his finger. I looked at him, and he looked away. I now turned to Lavien.

  “He’s not telling us everything,” I said.

  I sat down. Lavien sat down. Leonidas had never arisen, yet he seemed to understand our mood at once. “There’s more,” he said.

  I nodded. To Turner I said, “There’s more.”

  Turner continued to twist his ring. His skin turned red. “I have told you all-all you can care about. Of course there are more secrets. I was a spy, and it was war. But I have nothing else to say that would concern you.”

  “There’s more,” I said. “Where shall we take him, your house, Lavien?”

  “I cannot bring violence under the roof where my wife and children live,” he said. “I am a different man at home. It must be that way.”

  “I live in a boardinghouse,” I said. “We cannot question a man there.”

  “Rent a room here,” said Leonidas. “It is a loud tavern. Nothing will be heard.”

  “Clever man,” I answered.

  “One moment,” said Turner, whose expression had changed from terror to confusion and back again. “Mr. Lavien, you told me there would be a reward for my information, and no consequences so long as I told you the truth. I have told you nothing but the truth.”

  “I told you that you must tell us the entire truth,” Lavien answered. “Captain Saunders believes you are lying. I believe you are lying. Leonidas believes you are lying. You may tell us everything now, or you may tell us everything in private.”

  “I have nothing more to say,” answered Turner.

  Lavien tossed a coin to Leonidas. “Be so good as to get us a room. As far away as possible from the main room.”

  Leonidas left to tend to his task.

  Turner continued to glance about the room nervously. “You cannot force me to go against my will. I shall simply cry out.”

  “If you do that,” I said, “we shall be forced to tell the crowd that you were a British spy during the war and that you participated in a conspiracy against patriots. We would not be able to save you from the mob even if we wanted to. If you want to live, you will try your luck with us.”

  “I choose not to.” He stood but then sat down at once. I saw that Lavien had placed his sharp knife to Turner’s back, at his kidney.

  In a moment, Leonidas signaled to us that he had secured the room. Lavien said to Turner, “If you do not come with us quietly and easily, you will die. Do you believe it?”

  He nodded.

  “Good. If you come with us, if you cooperate, you will live. It cannot be any simpler.”

  The three of us rose and walked toward Leonidas, me first, then Turner, then Lavien. We went up a set of stairs and then another, and Leonidas led us to a room in the back. The doors to three of the other five rooms were closed, and we could hear the creaking of floors, the shuffling of furniture, the low moans of passion. The rooms here were used by whores, which was good. Customers would be used to the occasional strange noise.

  The room itself was just fifteen feet by ten, but it would do. Once we were inside, Lavien locked the door. I gazed around at a small dirty mattress, a pair of chairs, a small table for drinks or food. Lavien pushed Turner into one of the chairs. He shut the window, and the room grew dark.

  “I have not known Mr. Lavien long,” I said to Turner, “but my impression, from my limited experience, is that you ought to be very afraid.”

  “If I tell you all,” said Turner, “you will kill me.”

  “It is a possibility,” said Lavien, “but not a certainty. It depends, of course, on what you have to say and how hard you make us work for it. But if you don’t tell us, we will try everything to make you speak, and if you still remain quiet we will certainly kill you. You have all but admitted that there is more, so we have no reason not to pursue it.”

  Lavien used his knife to cut a strip of cloth from the stained cotton mattress cover.

  “We’ll not have the deposit on the room returned,” said Leonidas.

  “What are you doing?” Turner asked.

  “A little trick I learned in Surinam,” Lavien answered. “You cut off part of a man’s own body, place it in his mouth, and then gag him. Let him sit with his own bloody flesh in his mouth for a time-it works best in the hot sun, but here will do-and he usually becomes cooperative. The men I learned from loved to use the penis. It is symbolic, but I find it too devastating. A man without a penis will often drift into despair. I like to use an ear.”

  Turner started to rise. “No, you won’t-”

  “Sit down!” Lavien cried. His voice was so hard, so commanding, it would have taken a man with a godlike will to resist. Turner sat down.

  “Leonidas, hold his arms behind his back. Keep them still. I don’t want him to move while I do this.”

  It was at this point that I began to consider precisely what was happening here. If Turner had in
formation about events from all those years ago, I would need to have it, of course. I would not walk out of that room without it. On the other hand, I had seen with my own eyes not only Lavien’s resolve but his ruthlessness. The night we met he would have mutilated Dorland had I not intervened. I could not object now to his frightening Turner or even striking him a bit. Slicing off the man’s ear and placing it in his mouth, however, was of an entirely different order.

  “Hold, Leonidas,” I said. I turned to Lavien. “A word.”

  “No,” he answered. “I do this my way.”

  “It is my past,” I said.

  “And it is my sense of justice. Am I to spare this man because you do not like what it takes to find the truth?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  He shook his head. “Leonidas, will you help me?”

  “Do not,” I said.

  Leonidas, however, ignored me. He stood behind Turner, held him tight, and drew a thin stream of blood.

  “Last chance,” Lavien said.

  “You are madmen,” said Turner. “I’ll tell you. Don’t cut off my ear.”

  Lavien backed up. “Leonidas, keep his arms where they are. If I think he’s holding back, I’ll ask you to dislocate his shoulders.”

  “It might require a few attempts,” said Leonidas.

  “Do your best. Now, Mr. Turner, tell us your secret.”

  He remained quiet for fifteen seconds. Thirty. Lavien shook his head. “You are wasting my time.” He stepped forward, knife out.

  “We killed him,” Turner said. Were I to imagine such a scene, I would have thought Turner would shout these words, but he spoke them softly, as though he added a vaguely relevant bit of information to an ongoing conversation.

  I stared at him. He did not make me ask him to elaborate.

  “Fleet. He came back to Philadelphia looking for me, looking to clear his name. He was going to taverns, asking questions, getting close. The particulars don’t matter to you, I suppose. You need only know that Pearson knew that Fleet was looking for him-for us-and he asked me to help. He didn’t say what for, and I don’t know that I would have done it had I understood. I approached Fleet. He was in a tavern, drunk and angry, and I asked him to step outside with me, for I knew a man who could answer some of his questions. We stepped into the dark, and Pearson struck him on the back of his head with a hammer. Then he stabbed him. Fleet was not killed in a drunken brawl. He was murdered by Jack Pearson.”